what we must bear
by MedusaOfTheSpecies
Summary: "There is nothing unforgivable anymore." :: Snapshots of emotions and moments from across two wars. :: For QLFC Round 6.


**what we must bear**

QLFC Round 6: War. Write a fic set during a wizarding war.

Additional Prompts: (word) monster, (word) starlight, (quote) 'If the benchmark is extraordinary, what do you do if you're not?' — Vanya Hargreeves, The Umbrella Academy

**.**

_Happiness_:

Australia is beautiful at this time of year.

Monica Granger leans against her husband's shoulder and closes her eyes as the sun's rays beat down on the two of them, enjoying the warmth of the beach.

"You're going to get a sunburn," Jonathan Granger informs her and Monica scoffs at him before grinning.

He's silent after that, too tired to tease her, and she takes the opportunity to people watch. In front of her, a brunette with frizzy hair rolls her eyes as a volleyball hits her and her friends laugh at the unimpressed face she makes when she regains her balance.

The moment makes her frown temporarily. The girl looks so achingly familiar that it almost makes Monica speechless, and yet she cannot place her.

Somehow, the feeling passes almost as soon as it had come. Monica readjusts her position against her husband and doesn't think any more about it, just focuses on the way her surroundings are peaceful.

It's bliss.

**.**

_Grief: _

It's an overlooked fact that the battle doesn't fully end until dawn when they gather all the fallen and immortalize them with their tears.

During that battle, a Gryffindor boy captures not only the blood, screams, and fighting, but also the starlight, undisrupted in the void of the night sky: a simple snapshot of it at shining peacefully.

Dennis Creevey gets a dead brother and a hand-me-down camera, but never the chance to ask his brother why.

**.**

_Anger: _

Slytherins are known for many things: their relentless ambitions, their talent at lying, the way they look intimidating when adorned in shades of silver and green.

Slytherins are not usually known for being thieves, but these days, Astoria is redefining what it means to be a Slytherin, regardless of how much the house elves fear her for it.

"There are children starving in this castle because the Carrows are monsters and you're just going to let that happen? That makes you monsters too!"

The house elf in front of her flinches, but Astoria doesn't care. Caring takes kindness and all she has is white-hot fury chipping away at her soul. She certainly doesn't have her parents' approval anymore.

"We is commanded to not feed those hiding in the walls," the house elf protests sadly, pulling at its ears.

Astoria's glare doesn't let up. Excuses have always been a knut a dozen in House Slytherin.

"So what?" she counters. "I was commanded to keep my mouth shut and be nothing more than a trophy wife and you don't see me doing that. When war comes knocking on your door, you summon your inner cunning and you fight, for Merlin's sake. Is it not your duty to feed and help?"

The house elves exchange looks between themselves, whispering in low tones. Ten minutes later, Astoria sneaks out of the kitchen with a bottomless bag and an invisibility charm.

She doesn't know where she's going, but she is a Pureblood. From birth, she has listened to stories about the way magic always finds a way. Hogwarts is the oldest magic she has experienced—if it wants her to help the hidden children, then it will guide her there. All she has to do is believe.

Then, perhaps, she may finally be able to alleviate the overwhelming emotions she feels.

**.**

_Surprise:_

Parvati wakes up to a sharp jab in the ribcage and the smell of perfume. It's still pitch black, but she could recognize the face above hers anywhere, considering it's her mirror image.

"What are you doing here, Padma?" Parvati asks, sighing as she swings her legs over the side of her bed and flicks on her bed light.

"Shh!" Padma is wearing only her nightshirt and slippers, despite the November chill, and her lips are curved in the way they always are when she has an idea. When they were little, Parvati used to say it was the face that got them grounded.

She offers her hand and Parvati takes it, ignoring the way her heart beats against her skin in fear of getting caught. They manage to exit the dorm without waking Lavender or Fay, and Parvati instantly whirls around to face her sister.

"Why did you wake me up so late?" Parvati questions. A faint light streams in through a hallway window and Parvati frowns. "So early, I mean."

Padma does that smile again and oh, how Parvati has missed her. They haven't been as close in the past few years, split apart by houses and new friends, but war seems to have brought them together.

"I woke you up because we're doing something today." Padma opens the satchel she had been holding; Parvati hadn't even noticed it earlier. "I want to blow up the Carrows' bedroom."

Parvati freezes. Blinks, tilts her head to the side in shock. "Ravenclaw, huh? Sure you don't want to trade?"

"I have it all planned out," Padma protests and hands Parvati what looks like a wizarding firework. "Are you in?"

This is her sister, after all, the plotting to her foolhardiness, the backup plan to her rashness. "Let's blow them up," Parvati says, tying her hair back. She's ready for revenge, was born ready.

**.**

_Awe:_

It is odd to have Bellatrix cleaning his wounds. When they had played as children, Andromeda had always been their healer: she had all of Bellatrix's brilliance and none of her madness.

Now, however, his wounds are a result of a Death Easter mission. He is one of a group, a part of a family, and he never wants to let them down. He and Bellatrix were never close in their childhood, but now she has opened her home to him and he is grateful to cross the distance they had between them as children.

"Thank you so much, Bella," he says as she disinfects a wound with her wand. He hisses at the pain, but even that cannot touch his happiness.

When she smirks at him, it is as kind as she is capable of being. "I am proud of you, Regulus. You will lead our family in the right direction: into the servitude of our Lord."

Regulus nods in agreement. He's making the right decision, wiping away the blemishes his brother has put on their family tree. He's being a true Black.

**.**

_Boredom:_

Stakeouts are dull.

In the old Muggle movies Tonks's father had brought home, stakeouts had been full of intrigue and glory, not the mind-numbing dullness of watching a suspected Death Eater's home.

"Stop moving!" Alastor Moody hisses. He's supposed to be terrifying, according to the rumours she's heard around the Auror division, but so far the most interesting things she's heard him do is scream 'Constant Vigilance!' so loud it made Kingsley Shacklebolt fall over.

He makes her miss her mother, sometimes. They're both scary to everyone but her.

"I'm bored," Tonks whispers back honestly. It's been six hours, he's got to understand that. There's paperwork at the Auror department more interesting than this and at least twice as stimulating.

To her biggest surprise, he chuckles at that, one eye rolling in its socket as he laughs. She barely suppresses her glee, hair turning yellow in delight.

Suddenly, movement at the corner of her eye catches her attention. A figure runs out of the Travers' household, cloaked in black, and Tonks takes off at a run after him, conversation forgotten.

"I'm not bored anymore," she calls over her shoulder to Moody, hears his unimpressed grumble in response, and sidesteps a tree root that surely would have made her tumble to the ground. She refuses to fall just when things are finally getting interesting.

**.**

_Disgust:_

The day Draco gets his Dark Mark, Lucius takes his wife dancing. It's half an apology and half a statement to the outside world: the Malfoys are still alive, still devout to their service.

"I am sorry for the distress I have caused you," he whispers into the curve of her neck. She smells like honeysuckle, the same way she did on their wedding day. "I know you think what I have done is unforgivable, my dearest Narcissa. I only hope you forgive me eventually."

Narcissa's eyes are cold when he spins her. "Lucius," she whispers, "there is nothing unforgivable anymore."

He doesn't get it then. Not yet.

**.**

_Admiration:_

The Dark Lord is the first to notice Severus's potential. He is recruited straight out of high school and joins due to a mix of longing to belong and vengeful anger at Lily.

Lily, who called the Dark Lord a monster within a minute of hearing about him. Lily, with her fiery hair and delighted smile. Lily, who always thought the best of him.

The Dark Lord gives Severus permanent access to his private lab, showers him with rare ingredients and artifacts, never laughs at his pathetic family or poor looks. The Dark Lord believes in him, doesn't push him away. For that, he gives the man his full loyalty and ignores his own thoughts of Muggle houses and long summer days playing on the swings.

Then Lily's targeted and his house of cards begins to crash. To follow a monster makes you one, and so Severus sinks onto his knees in front of Albus Dumbledore and begins to repent.

**.**

_Confusion: _

Voldemort doesn't remember her. His eyes pause on her during the final battle, but there is no spark of recognition of the torture he put her through, of the fact that he lived in her head for a year. Most likely he has simply heard of what his diary did to her from one of his Death Eater lackeys.

Fine. She doesn't need his remembrance anyways. Bellatrix is coming at her, so Ginny lifts her wand and meets her halfway.

She cannot wait until he is mortal again. Eventually, even Tom's older self shall rot.

**.**

_Exhaustion:_

The thrown pan breaks a lamp and James turns around just in time to watch it hit the floor.

"Well, at least it was just the ugly one Petunia sent us for Easter," he says, mentally trying to recall the cleaning spell for glass that his mum taught him.

Lily just continues to weep; he isn't even sure if she heard the crash. "I can't do this anymore," she manages through her tears, rubbing her arm. He hadn't even known she could throw like that. Some days, it feels like he doesn't know anything anymore.

"Lils," he tries, but she interrupts him, eyes wide and cheeks hollow.

"What do you do, James? What do you do if the benchmark is extraordinary?" Lily gestures around their cottage and back to her stomach. "What do you do if you're not?"

James remembers Dumbledore looking sorrowful as he told him their child could save the world. He hadn't understood that back then; they had both been so full of life back then. Six months feels like an eternity now.

"I don't know. I don't know, Lils."

She just cries harder at his words, but he has nothing more to offer. Instead, he cuts his hand on the glass shards as he picks them up piece by piece.


End file.
